Some people find drying out/dying flowers morbid or unappealing. I love when they start to dry and change colors; that’s when i take them from their vase to flip and hang. There’s still beauty left in them.
And I understand. I understand why people hold hands: I’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying ‘This is mine’. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.


i want to sit on a kitchen counter in my underwear at 3 am with you and talk about the universe

(Source: flowury, via xojennydey)


tumblr poetry #9

tumblr poetry #11
A snazzyspace.com Theme A snazzyspace.com Theme